Forty seconds
by Sherry-Doll
Summary: Forty seconds isn't a lot of time. But if it's all you have left to live, you can't exactly be picky, now can you?


**Disclaimer: Death Note isn't mine. It's not mine.**

…**Damn it, it's not mine.**

…**I just realized…my fics get shorter and shorter O_O**

**That's a scary thought.**

**This is sort of a sequel to Gravestone…Mello DIES.**

**BTW, just want to say thank you to all those who reviewed my previous crap^^**

**Yeah. Dedicated to Amaryne, I guess, because I owe her a Death Note fic XD**

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_Tick. Forty seconds._

Mello leans against the back of his seat, head connecting with the wall with a muffled thump. He feels the end coming; hears the faint scratching as Takada scribbles his name down frantically. He can hear the quiet ticking that isn't really there – but it ticks anyway, louder, louder, _louder_ and he can't stand it, he just can't _stand_ the waiting.

_Tick. Thirty-eight seconds._

In agitation, he thrusts his head back hard, just to hear the metallic bang, just to feel the pain exploding in the back of his head, just to see if he is still alive, if he can still feel anything. Rolling his head towards the window listlessly, he looks out into the dark, crumbling ruins of the church and wonders dully what will happen to his body.

_Tick. Thirty-four seconds._

He tilts his head so that now he is looking at the stars as the cold night air washes over him. The pinpricks of light are small and insignificantly pale against the stark shine of the moon. It bathes the truck in its iridescent glow, and Mello feels uncomfortably exposed in its cold beauty.

_Tick. Thirty-one seconds._

The books, he decides, are wrong. His life isn't flashing before his eyes or anything, though that might be because his death isn't going to be exciting or fast-paced; rather, on the contrary, he was almost bored of waiting for a heart attack.

_Tick. Twenty-nine seconds._

Mello examines the zip on his leather vest.

_Tick. Twenty-eight seconds._

With a sudden, guilty pang, he remembers Matt, and how it's _his_ fault he died. He didn't deserve to be dragged down into this mess, he thinks. But it's too late now. The brittle wind pushes at him, whispering through the folds of his jacket, tangling in his matted hair.

_Tick. Twenty-five seconds._

A gloved hand reaches into his pocket to retrieve a chocolate bar still in its wrapping. That morning he packed two – one for him, the other for L. But he couldn't resist eating half of L's before leaving the rest on his grave. He shrugs. Some habits will never grow old. He peels the wrapping off this one slowly, taking his time. After all, it's his last chocolate bar. And he's got nothing better to do while he waits.

_Tick. Twenty seconds._

Near. If this is his last chocolate bar, then _this_ will be his last Near-hating session. Mello makes a mental picture of him, mouth twisting into a sardonic smirk as he squishes the Near-dummy in his mind's eye with a bulldozer. He really hates that self-righteous bastard. And yet, here he is sacrificing himself so that Kira would lose, even if it meant that Near would win. He bites off a piece of chocolate. Goddamn irony.

_Tick. Seventeen seconds._

He feels the looming end, and for the first time, feels truly lonely and afraid. He isn't sure what to do, isn't sure if this is how he's supposed to feel. He was calm before, but now he's nearly at death's door, and it's all suddenly happening so fast, and his breath speeds up as the seconds tick by, and he wishes there is someone to help him, but he is alone, overwhelmingly alone, with nothing to ease the silence but the ever increasing volume of his beating heart.

_Tick. Thirteen seconds._

Takada is nearly hyperventilating as she counts the seconds to his demise. Mello hears her through it all, the panic and adrenaline rushing through his veins slowing, slowing, until they finally return to normal. He smiles a dark and warped smile, because he knows that it's killing her, not knowing for sure if he will keel over and die or not.

He feels the same way.

_Tick. Twelve seconds._

_Tick. Eleven seconds._

_Tick. Ten._

And now his own breath is coming in gasps again, faster-

_Tick. Nine._

-and faster as it draws closer and-

_Tick. Eight._

-he hears the invisible clock, ticking, ticking with-

_Tick. Seven._

-the _thump-thump_ of his heart.

_Tick. Six._

How many more times will-

_Tick._ _Five._

-his scarred and wounded heart-

_Tick. Four._

-beat?

_Tick. Three._

His teeth sink into the chocolate.

_Tick. Two._

His hand clutches at the crucifix hanging around his neck in a silent prayer.

_Tick._

…_One._

His chest constricts as his heart freezes midway its last beat. His eyes widen as he slowly slumps onto the steering wheel. The hand holding the chocolate collapses, the barely bitten bar falling forward until it hits the ground.

Moments later, Takada calls Light, Kira. The piece of chocolate in Mello's mouth only just started to melt; it cools down with his lifeless body. Soon afterward, the truck is ablaze, the fire creeping up the ruins of the church and mercilessly burning it to the ground. In the intense heat, the chocolate starts to melt again, trickling down his throat. But Mello can't feel it; he is far away. He can't feel the fire licking his clothes and ravishing his already burnt body. He can't feel the angry sparks and the whirling smoke tossing charred bits of him into the air. He is far away, and can't feel it.

The moon casts its light coldly down on the scene of fire and destruction, illuminating the skeleton of the truck and the people inside.

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**Gah. Yeah, I've been in a real angsty mood lately XD**

**This was finished at five am.**

…**I need coffee…-.-"**


End file.
